Perfect Wife No More: I Unleashed Hell Chapter 01

Perfect Wife No More: I Unleashed Hell Chapter 01 The Perfect Partner

After the mission failed, I got bound to the Perfect Partner System and became Arthur Harrington’s ideal match.

At a yacht party, he was caught dancing intimately with a rising starlet, Vivian Garrison. The video went viral, and I stepped in to do damage control.

He forgot I was allergic to alcohol, brought home the liquor-filled chocolates Vivian had left behind… and I ate them anyway, feeling touched.

I even ran into Vivian at the hospital for her prenatal checkup—and kindly booked her a VIP room.

Just when I was about to finish the mission and leave this world, he suddenly snapped, eyes red, pinning me into a corner, his voice rough. “Evelyn Clark, do you love me?”

I remembered how much he used to hate hearing me say I loved him.

So I put on my most polite, flawless smile and answered, word by word, “Of course, just like you wanted—I don’t love you.”

……

When Arthur came home, he still smelled of cedar and orange blossom.

It was the limited-edition perfume he’d given Vivian last month.

He loosened his tie while replying to a sweet, whining voice message, his tone indulgent. “Be good. I’ll take you shopping for bags tomorrow.”

But the moment he looked up and saw me sitting on the couch, the smile vanished.

He asked, “You’re discharged?”

I ignored the distance in his tone and smiled, nodding.

A few days earlier, Arthur had brought me half a box of scattered liquor chocolates.

They were identical to the handmade ones Vivian had shown off online.

Passing leftovers from his mistress to his wife—that said it all.

The old me would’ve smashed the box and blown up at him.

But now, I was Arthur’s ideal partner.

Making him happy was hard-coded into the system.

So I took the chocolates gratefully, ate them one by one in front of him, and ended up in the ER.

At the time, he was even puzzled—why would someone like me, who enjoyed a drink now suddenly be allergic to alcohol?

But the one who enjoyed alcohol was his new favorite, Vivian.

He forgot my allergy.

And he also forgot how he once blocked every toast for me, drinking in my place at our wedding.

The first time I caught him cheating, he begged for forgiveness. “Evelyn, it was just for show. You’re the only one in my heart.”

But after it happened again and again, he stopped pretending.

He openly showed up with other women at every event and even accused me in public of being a love cheat.

That was when I realized he’d overheard my talks with the system soon after we married.

He decided everything I did was just a mission.

He wouldn’t listen—and during one fight, he shoved me down the stairs, and I lost our first child.

Seeing me silent, Arthur frowned slightly. “If you’re not well, why didn’t you rest?”

“Look at this.” I pointed at the TV.

On the screen, I was being swarmed by reporters outside the hospital, and questions were fired at me nonstop.

“Mrs. Harrington, any comment on Mr. Harrington’s yacht video with Vivian Garrison?”

“Was your hospitalization related to Mr. Harrington cheating again?”

“This is the third scandal involving Mr. Harrington this year. Have you thought about divorce?”

…

While I was hospitalized for my alcohol allergy, a video of Arthur dancing intimately with Vivian on a yacht shot to the top of the trending list.

In the video, Vivian wore a sexy bikini, clinging to Arthur, smiling boldly and brightly.

Yet right after our wedding, Arthur threw out all my sexy outfits.

He said he didn’t like his wife dressing “too revealing.”

A madam of the Harrington family must carry herself with the grace of a proper lady.

He said, “Once you marry into this family, you follow our rules. Trash these trashy clothes.”

He also hated it when I got too close to him in public, saying it wasn’t dignified.

In three years of marriage, I never held his hand in front of others.

But Vivian was bold and passionate, whispering against him on the yacht, locked tight in his arms.

I begged for three years and never got Arthur to wear our wedding ring.

Yet in the close-up, the hand on her waist wore a diamond ring, glittering in the sun.

Turns out he didn’t hate sexy, affection, or rings.

He just didn’t like me.

The old me would’ve screamed at him like a lunatic.

But now, I was Arthur’s ideal partner.

My job was to clean up every mess for him, so he’d have nothing to worry about.

So on the screen, I looked calm and graceful, smiling my way through every sharp question.

Arthur suddenly turned off the TV, his face dark.

I didn’t know what I did wrong, but I still apologized quickly, “Sorry. I’ll handle it better next time.”

The last time something like this happened, reporters grilled Arthur about his flirty texts with Vivian at a brand launch.

I lost it, slammed the mic down, and stormed off.

Afterwards, Arthur scolded me, said I was immature, and embarrassed him.

He even locked me out on the terrace all night during a thunderstorm.

He knew I was terrified of the dark and thunder, but he still left me shivering through the flashes and cracks of lightning alone.

I curled up in the wind and rain all night, every second dragging on until it felt hopeless.

It was long enough for burning love to go cold. Long enough for my heart to go numb.

In the darkness, the system’s alert sounded painfully clear.

“Mission failed. Activating backup plan.

“Perfect Partner System successfully bound.”

The system’s voice stayed flat and emotionless. “As long as you become his ideal wife, you’ll be reborn.”

And the first step to completing the Perfect Partner mission was stripping away every last bit of love I had for Arthur.